Tuesday, June 22, 2010
I was just in that half-way place between sleep and awake – where things are real and not real at the same time. The dreams I get from this in-between place are memories and futures all in one. They are the way things are and the way things were, the way things ought to be and the way things have never been before. They make the most sense of nearly anything in the world.
Just now, I saw only a picture of a place. Nothing happened and nothing didn’t happen. The scene a little unfamiliar, but completely known. The place I saw was my childhood home. I see this a lot in my dreams and in my daydreams. You know how you picture a place with the same view almost every time? It’s as if a snapshot of a certain moment stays glued to the screen in our minds. And although it makes no sense to see things from above, as if we are outside ourselves and looking down - that’s how we see a certain place or remember an event.
Monday, June 14, 2010
This is what it feels like.
It’s like being in the house where I grew up and listening to the cars come up the hill.
We lived at the end of a steep dead end street. There was no real turnaround, so when cars came up the street, it was a hugely noticeable event. They had to figure out how to turn around or had to back out to get back down.
For much of my school age life, I came home alone to an empty house. My mom was working full time and finishing college – and then a Master’s degree, so I was home alone a lot. And the two of us were the only two in the house. I was an only child and she was a single mom.
“Latch-key” kid is the term they used for me in the 80s. I got home from school and raided the refrigerator while dialing the number to my grandparents. Muscle memory led me through the same set of motions every weekday afternoon.
Sometimes I ventured outside to walk up the hill or watch nature. But usually I turned on the TV and waited. Each time a car came up the road, I listened. Is that her?
Even when I knew better, I listened - Just in case she came home early. Sometimes it sounded like her car and I got excited. It’s hard to tell and I got faked out a lot. I thought my way into believing it was her quite often, but until it was actually her car coming up the road, it didn’t feel quite right.
When I did finally hear her car and knew it was her, it was so obvious and I knew it was finally the right car. I felt silly for ever believing that any of the other cars could have ever been her. But then I would do the same thing over again the very next day. Each day a new experience in really knowing for sure.
It feels like that.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
So then she calls today.
Like magic. Manifestation.
I put energy into it and then it came back.
Or perhaps, she is reading this very page (that would make things interesting) - or perhaps, she saw my car parked at the grocery store where she drives by everyday.
Either way, she leaves no message.
But still I hear: You are the one who left
[I am the VICTIM]
Monday, June 7, 2010
On most mornings I wake up thinking thank God. Thank Goddess, Thank Spirit. Thank Source. Thank you – whoever/whatever you are – for giving me this life. Thank you, thank you.
Thank you for the strength, for serendipity, for freckles.
Thank you for sunshine and living plants, for love.
For awareness, for sensations, for time. I thank you.
Thank you for the awful thing that happened. For the insight into my own will to survive. For my own dogged persistence to kick in. Thank you for the moment when her hand was covering my mouth so that I too could not breath. Thank you for that moment when she almost took her last breath while slowly saying, “You’re coming with me.” He arm tighter around me and her hand pushing in. “You must suffer too.” She squeezes and her breathing slows and so does mine.
My face hurts. “You will watch this,” she says again.